


Broken World

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 2, Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Poetry, freestyle poetry, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:05:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10060784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A poem about the Fallout universe.





	

A world at the brink of destruction  
Could only lead to one construction.  
Bombs fell because we couldn't handle ourselves.  
Dug was the grave into which we all shall delve.  
World wrecked with radiation.  
Hit hard in my glorious nation.  
Monstrous metal machines were used to settle basic needs,  
But now survivors have to survive Protectron security.  
Mutants grew as a nuisance,  
Some kinder than others but still faced prudence.  
Ghouls may or may not be violent amalgamations of man,  
But most wastelanders show a lack of kindness, even if they can.  
Deathclaws yield destruction without restriction.  
Violence is the only smart decision.  
You'll wander for days on cracked highways to try to find a good way to stay safe.  
But influence is a negative chafe.  
Karma is dictated by the laws and reactions of your action.  
Some factions lead you along a course of actions.  
Like the leader Caesar,  
An enraged slaver but never a yielder.  
He's not the only man at war with his world.  
The Brotherhood of Steel has a plot to unfurl.   
The Railroad saves Synths from the Institute's lack of moral scientific guidance.  
And the NCR practices defense with bland uncensored violence.  
Minuteman try to help the needy defend themselves from Raiders who are greedy.  
But men like cannibals aren't deterred from things that are meaty.  
But heroes never die, rather they arise.  
They use methods to bring wrongs down to size.  
A man's S.P.E.C.I.A.L dictates his level.  
And his significant traits are his label.  
Lands are lost, waiting to be discovered.  
They wait for people like you to try to find secrets to recover.  
Travel the wasteland at last to find the stories of the past,  
Be careful not to feel the blast.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: I wrote this so that in addition to being a poem you could rap it, try it!
> 
> Comment any feedback or criticism that you may have.


End file.
